That time between tea and bed. That long, long, loooong hour or so. That time when the children are tired and crotchety. That time when nothing goes to plan. That time when I am desperate for them to be in bed and to enjoy my small moment of still and calm, when the fire hisses and the house is soundless.
The big girl has a talent for negotiation and bargaining. While I am hoping these skills will help her to go far in later life, at the moment they are driving me round the bend. Tonight the list of procrastination ranged from wanting a drink (predictable), to the batteries on her torch were fading (hum, predicting later shenanigans), to a final push with her bed socks being too slippy (?).
I love my kids but the time before bed is my nemesis, my nightmare moment. The time when I need to count to ten on a very frequent basis. Can I confess that I put the small boy to bed at half past five one night (or is that day) when he was just unbearable. The cat, however, calmly sleeps through the chaos and noise, studiously ignoring the turmoil of bedtime. I so wish I had his powers of detachment.
Hi there,
Drawn to northern things by a Geordie hubby and the stunning scenery, I noticed your blog. Heart goes out to you…you have described the poison hour! It gets better, but the craving for peace and quiet has not left me. Love it when they are all content, in bed, doing homework, in their rooms, even if the bass is going in one and the ukulele in another. Enjoy your me time.
Liz
Peace is a relative thing, but yes I think it happens when they are contentedly occupied (preferably in sleep)!